Lessons From Another
by Youllneverguess13
Summary: Harry finds himself thrown into a new dimension, surrounded by new and old faces alike. Will this be the chance he has always wanted? Will he be able to learn from his past and do it right? A new twist on the "the characters read the books" genre. EWE; Cannon through the end of 7th book; No reciting of the books yet covers the events
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Following the events of cannon before the epilogue, this story follows Harry as he is suddenly vaulted into a new dimension where people he saw die, are suddenly very much alive. There his confronted once more Voldemort's and the horrors that accompany him, but also is granted the chance to have something he always wanted, a family. This story follows Harry as he shares the events of his life to help those learn from his mistakes, in the hopes that they can defeat Voldemort once again.

 **Note:** I've been toying with this idea for a little while now and decided to give it a shot. Any and all feedback welcome and appreciated, I am anxious to know what you guys think. Please let me know if you have any suggestions or questions as well! I am always looking for ways to improve my stories. Also, if you have any ideas for a better summary, I would be forever in your debt. Well, I guess I'll let you guys get reading and hope you enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter One:** "Have you ever heard of inter-dimensional travel?"

The boy sat there, black hair an untidy mop set over vibrant green eyes magnified by the flimsy wire glasses that sat perched on his nose. Even after all these years his glasses had somehow managed to survive the many trials they had been put through. Although by now they were more magic than actual glasses, something that was apparent to all but the young man to whom they belonged.

"Sir?" A gentle voice drifted into the room as a young woman with enough bushy, brown hair for three people, poked her head into the room. Youthful innocence seemed to exude from her features and Harry felt his heart clench in the manner that was fast becoming familiar as their gazes met. "I was told to fetch you."

With a curt nod of acknowledgement, Harry sat back as the girl turned and bounced down the stairs and back into the drawing room below. The drawing room that was chalk full of memories, both new and old.

Despite his best efforts to ignore his circumstances, Harry found his thoughts turn back to the night he had arrived, nearly a week ago now.

He had been exploring one of the few hideouts of Voldemort's that had not been dismantled yet, when it had happened. He felt something shift beneath his foot just as the magic began to change around him. Panic had engulfed him as he met the equally stricken gazes of his friends, all of which had chosen to accompany him that day. After all this, to still die at that bastard's hand…

But that wasn't the aim of this magic, at least not directly, for as the magic picked up, whipping around the room Harry became isolated in a tornado of power, yet it did not touch him. Until all of a sudden it did and Harry felt himself being yanked and pulled in many directions, while being squished by an overwhelming feeling of pressure at the same time. It felt as if someone had tried to take him side-along appareling while they were port-keying; in short, it was horrific.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, with Harry finding his face pressed against a scratch strewn floor in a dungy room that was horrifyingly familiar. He was at Grimmauld place. In the drawing room to be exact. Although, as he had had pushed himself up and looked around, he had seen that it was not how he remembered it being when he had been there on the run. Rather it was more like it had been when he was first brought the headquarters during fifth year.

Moving carefully, Harry continued to look around and promptly decided that he must have died. That the Avada Kadava curse he had taken had simply been time delayed, waiting 4 months before it finally got around to killing him. There was simply no other explanation. For looking at him in undisguised shock was none other than Albus Dumbledore. The same man he had seen die from ten feet away. The same Albus Dumbledore whose funeral had attended.

That had led to a round of tense questions, a healthy amount of vertiserum, more questions, a few more people that should have been dead, and they had finally arrived at the conclusion that this wasn't possible. Or at least it shouldn't be. And since it apparently was possible, as it had happened, they had decided that Harry had somehow managed to get himself thrown into a different dimension. One where dead people were alive, death eaters still ran rampant and for some crazy reason, Voldemort was sane and yet still mostly evil.

Which led him here, back to this very moment where he sat watching the retreating form of a naive Hermione so very different from his own. A Hermione that didn't even know who he was. Coming back to himself with a harsh jerk of his head, Harry pushed himself from the chair and stole down the hallway into the drawing room below. He moved with ease of long-practice, silent and graceful as he had learned, from many different sources, but all for the same need to survive.

It was becuase of his unconscious stealth that no one noticed his arrival as he hovered in the doorway, taking a moment to brace himself for the coming conversation.

It had been decided that Harry needed to share his story, his life, and that he had to include everything from first year onwards. Becuase this was about more than just strategy, this was yet another test of his validity. Another test of if he was who he claimed. And honestly, it left him a little peeved, as if ventriserum wasn't proof enough. And so he waited, hovering while the people within discussed him in abstract curiosity.

Harry's presence had been strictly "need to know" up until today and many of the people that stood chatting in the room knew nothing more than there was a strange person that arrived at headquarters under mysterious circumstances. And so introductions would have to be made; again. Probably rather confusing ones, as apparently he had a counterpart that was alive and well in this world. That was weird to think about. Another him. They hadn't met yet, and Harry wasn't altogether sure he wanted to. What if he didn't like himself? Again, weird. Just weird. The kind of weird that only ever seemed to happen to him.

It was with a resigned sigh that Harry stepped out of the door way to make his way to the middle of the room where Dumbledore, who was apparently alive here, stood near the large pensive Harry knew had brought specifically for this meeting. Wasn't he lucky.

"Ahhh… Harry. Come here please." It took Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes all of a second from the time he entered the room to lock gazes with his own. At the sound of the old man's calm tones, the room fell silent and everyone began staring at Harry in curiosity. Thankfully, stares were something Harry was well used to and he was able to make his way calmly across the room.

"Shall we begin?" Harry asked as the silence continued to stretch on, quiet proud of how steady his voice sounded. _Fake it 'til you make it…_ The old muggle phrase drifted through Harry's mind as the room exploded with activity as people rushed to take their seats, eager to find out what was going on.

Once everyone had settled, Harry opened his mouth and began, unintentionally cutting off Dumbledore, who had expected to have to make the introductions.

"Hello, thank you all for coming here. I will get around to introducing myself but first, I feel a little background information is needed." Harry's voice was calm and confident as he easily, if not comfortably, fell back into the persona he had been forced to create during and after the Final Battle.

"Who here has heard of inter-dimensional travel?" As he had guessed, his rather unexpected question was met with more than a few confused expressions as the members of the Order of Phoenix tried to figure out what in the hell he was talking about. Hermione, the normal hero in such situations, apparently was not a member of the order here.

"I hadn't either." Harry commented with a self-depreciating chuckle. "But due to recent events I have been pushed to become something of an expert in the subject. Not a very competent one, but I am trying. I am sure you all have heard rumors of the 'strange newcomer' and I am here to introduce myself at last. I arrived late last week due to a rather creative and unique set of circumstances in one of Voldemort's better protected hideouts."

There were the predictable winces at the name as well confused looks as people tried to figure out how they could have missed an attack on Voldemort's own property. Several people went so far as to mutter to their neighbors, asking if they had hear anything. But of course no one had, and attention quickly refocused on Harry, rightly guessing he had the answers they desired.

"These particular circumstances are how I ended up here, in a different dimension. Now, I know there have been documented cases of this happening before, but I seem to have been the first." Harry paused to give people a moment to air their confusion. He saw many bewildered and wary faces and took a bracing breath before continuing.

"As to the exact magic behind how I came to be here, I am afraid to say, I am still rather unsure how to explain it. If you have further questions, feel free to pester the Headmaster for more information, as he seems to understand what occurred far better than I ever could.

Basically, I was on a mission with a few of my closest friends when I triggered some kind of magical storm. Next thing I knew I was here." Harry shrugged, showing his own confusion.

"Upon my arrival, as you can probably assume, I underwent extensive questioning from the leaders of the Order of the Phoniex, under vertiserum in addition to several other methods, before they were assured of my honesty. Part of the deal that was struck was that I share the information about my life and identity with you all today." Here Harry paused once more, subtly wiping his sweaty palms on his robes before continuing.

"You see, in my world Voldemort is gone." This time there was no muttering, merely shocked expressions. Taking advantage of the silence, Harry pressed on with his explanation, eager to get this over with.

"My name is Harry Potter, the son of Lily and James Potter." A soft gasp drew his attention and Harry felt the breath knocked from his lungs as he met the gaze of his mother, whose eyes did indeed look a great deal like his own. Mustering up a little nod of acknowledgement, Harry licked his suddenly parched lips and continued to explain.

"Through the use of the Headmaster's pensive, which he has so graciously granted us use of for this evening, I will show you the key events of my life. I was rather… involved with the fighting in my home dimension, and as such, it is hoped, that using these experiences you all will stand a better chance through your own battles.

So if you wouldn't mind. Please place a finger in the pensive, the first memory has already been prepared. It should provide a little more background on the world and my story. Questions will be answered after, if they are not answered in the memory." With a final curt nod, Harry place a finger in the creamy liquid of his own memory and dove into the pensive, attempting to escape the flow of questions he was sure would follow soon after.

##########################

It was safe to say Lily Potter was in shock. And that she had probably broken her husband's hand, if his wincing was anything to go by. To shocked to even mumble an apology Lily stared at the young man before her, trying to come to terms with what he had said. He was Harry Potter. Her son. Well, her son from another dimension, but he was still Lily Potter's. He was still hers.

Lily shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She had thought he looked familiar when she had first seen him, yet he did not look enough like her Harry for her to instantly make the connection. Her Harry was taller and broader, with far more muscle than the skinny man before her could ever dream of possessing. The new Harry also carried himself in a way that made him appear far older than he should be if was actually the same age as her son, making the comparison that much harder. And there was the fact that it was not a comparison she had been expecting to make.

Startled from her thoughts by the young man's sudden disappearance, Lily leapt to her feet, eager to learn more about her almost son. Racing over to where the pensive sat at the head of table, Lily practically threw herself into the basin, in her haste to figure out what was going on.

As the mist of the pensive solidified around her, she tried to guess what the memory would be, but honestly had no clue where it would begin. Would it start with family memories? His Hogwarts letter? The first day of school? There were countless places he could begin, and Lily found herself wishing to see them all.

The white fog darkened until it turned into the dark, age-worn brown of a small shack. Lily could here the loud crossing of waves just barely audible over the howling of the wind that was shaking the small building in its fury. Instinctively tightening her cloak around herself at the screaming of the storm, despite not actually being able to feel the wind, Lily looked around, excited to see what a young Harry would look like. Would he look like her own son had? Or would he different?

Her mouth nearly fell open in surprise when she caught sight of the young boy, stretched out in the lumpy couch, the only piece of furniture that adorned the room. He was massive! The young man she met today looked nothing like that, but maybe he went on a diet or something… He must have, for a quick glance around the room showed no other possibilities, unless he was behind the one other door. But why would the memory have started here if he was in a different room?

"Where are you?" A Weasley twin asked, obviously just as unable to reconcile the beached whale snoring on the couch with the fit and respectable young man that was currently leaning against the wall, the picture of dignified disinterest.

"Over in the corner on the floor."

There was a collective of shuffling as people shifted to try and catch a glimpse of the mysterious child. When Lily did she felt her heart clench in her chest. He was so tiny. Nothing but a mere scrap of child with hair standing every direction and bright green eyes that dominated his gaunt face. He had only the thinnest of blankets and was shaking so hard it seemed to be painful. Lily felt herself began to swell in rage at the injustice errors her. Why were they here, the child not even having a proper blanket? Why was one child the size of walrus and the other nothing more than skin stretched over jutting bones? Did they live here?

"Whats going on?" The other twin asked, Lily thought it might have been Fred, although she was having a hard time tearing her gaze from the young child long enough to check. He was doing something on the floor…

As the mother drew closer she felt her heart once again give a painful contraction. A birthday cake. He had drawn a birthday cake in dust, his shuddering breathes softly giving voice to to the traditional song.

"I am about to receive my Hogwarts letter. It is currently seconds away from my eleventh birthday."

"Did you live here?" Lily asked, still trying to puzzle out the reason for the situation around her.

"No." A mono-symbolic response. No elaboration. No explanation. Nothing.

Lily opened her mouth to ask another question, only to be interrupted by a ripping noise, as the already rattling door to the small shack was ripped from its hinges to reveal none other than Hagrid standing in the doorway. Closing her mouth for the moment, Lily decided to let the scene play out in the vain hope that it would provide some information. It certainly couldn't be any vaguer than the person to which the memory belonged.

She watched as Hagrid bustled over, forcing the other boy off the couch, only to feel her face drain of color when the door to the other room was opened to reveal none other than her sister and her oversized husband.

It wasn't possible. No. No way Harry was living with her sister of all people. Where was everyone else? James, herself, Remus, Sirius? Hell, even Albus or Minevera would have been better options. That's not to say Lily did not love her sister, she simply understood her hatred of magic that rose above any of Petunias other, more redeeming, qualities that could have possibly made such a situation work for anyone.

 _Maybe he's just vacationing with them,_ She thought to herself with desperate ferocity, though she knew it was an empty wish. No. For whatever reason Petunia seemed to have somehow ended up raising her eldest son. And where were her other other kids, if that was the case?

It was several moments later that Lily was able to pull herself back to the present, just in time to see a young Harry eating the sausages Hagrid had offered with a veraciousness that tore at her heart. _When was the last time he ate?_ She wondered, disliking the way this memory was going the longer she watched. He certainly was skinny enough to have skipped several meals at least.

As she watched Hagrid try to explain why he was there in abstract horror, Lily realized Harry didn't even know he was a wizard. Just as the truly disturbing thought crossed her mind, a shouting match erupted before her, confirming her suspicion. _How did this happen? Why did James and I never tell him? What the hell is going on?_

She found herself more confused than ever as she watched Hagrid give Harry his Hogwarts letter, the child's eyes widening with each line he read. Her heart twisted tighter at his innocent question regarding owl mail. _How was he so ignorant of the wizarding world?_ It seemed every second she watched the scene playing out in front of her, she gained far more questions than answers.

Lily felt everyone's eyes turn to her in shocked surprise when her name was mentioned during Petunia's rather long winded and unflattering rant explaining how they knew of the wizarding world. Many people didn't even realize she had a sister, let alone were able to recognize her.

Lily felt James move to stand beside her, his hand slipping around hers, offering his silent comfort and support. Despite herself, she felt each of her sisters accusations slip into her heart like a knife. It still hurt, even after all this time, to hear what her sister thought of her, all becuase of something she was unable to help or control. But it was nothing to pain reflected in the boys eyes before her, eyes that were exact copies of her own.

She gave a gasp and felt James squeeze her hand as Petunia concluded her raving by explain how she apparently gotten herself blown up. She had died? Is that what happened? She returned her attention to the young Harry, who had just turned a rather sickly pale color. Lily felt her already shattered heart crack into even finer pieces at the pained confusion dripping from the little boys lips as he nearly begged for clarification.

She wanted nothing more to rush over and offer him the comfort he so obviously desired but instead found herself listen to the story of her death. A rather horrific story, that had her, and many others, gaping between the two Harry's in astonishment. _He had stopped Voldemort? How? Could he do it again?_ The questions once again were racing around in her mind, yet once again lacked any sort of answer.

Lily was suddenly jolted from her thoughts by the bellows of Petunia's husband's, Vernon was that his name? He was fairly screeching at the little child and Lily found herself filled with righteous fury, a welcome relief from the grief and confusion that had been wringing her heart dry for the past half hour. Forgetting completely that there was nothing she could do, Lily stormed over and placed herself between Vernon and Harry, trying to protect him as well as she could.

It wasn't until James came over and reminded her in gentle whisper that there was nothing she could do that Lily deflated. She reluctantly stepped aside and looked over the scene with sad eyes, once more feeling broken and more than a little lost. In her present state, she was unable to suppress a wince when Vernon talked about "beating" it out of the boy. If had even tried…

Unable to take it anymore and desperate for something to distract herself, Lily studiously turned her back to Vernon and instead looked around the pensive, trying to gauge the other's reactions. Everyone was pale, the trademark Weasley freckles, stark on their features. Molly had tears glistening in her eyes, and when their gazes met, Lily knew that she had an ally in protecting Harry. The eldest Weasley children, including the twins looked shocked and a little confused, and kept looking from the memory Harry to James and Lily and back, as if trying to reconcile the information they had learnt.

Remus and Sirius were also ghostly, each of their eyes glowing in anger. Remus's eyes had taken the amber tone of the wolf, bespeaking of his emotional upheaval as his gaze remained locked on the scene before him.

As Lily continued to survey those around her, her gaze finally came to rest on the real Harry, his face blank except for a faint trace of confusion that hardly seemed to touch his features, yet was present none the less. He was looking around as if he was unsure why they were so uncomfortable, as if he did not understand their reactions. This took the fractured pieces of Lily's heart and ground them into dust. No longer able to distract herself, Lily instead turned into James' side and tuned out the memory until they were expelled from the pensive altogether.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** Thank you so much for all the reviews so far! They are the entire reason this next chapter is out so fast. It's a little on the short side but I hope you still enjoy. Again please let me know what you think, both good and bad. I love hearing from you guys!

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter Two:** _Who are you?_

##############

The silence that reigned when they left the pensive was uncomfortable in the extreme, the questions resting on everyones tongues weighing heavy in the air, yet no one was brave enough to actually give voice to any of them.

James ignored the silence, gazing intently at the young man that was his son. One look at Lily and he knew that, regardless of whatever dimension Harry may have come from, she had claimed him for her own. After being married for over 18 years, he recognized that determined gleam in her eye, and understood that no matter what, he had suddenly found himself with another child.

The only thing was, James didn't know this child. Thus, his intense studying.

Not that it was helping much.

The boy was unreadable. He sat there, apparently at ease yet tense at the same time, a contradiction that should not be possible and yet the child seemed to embodied with little difficulty. His green eyes, near perfect replicas of those of his wife, shared none of the emotion that normally lit up his beloveds gaze. Harry's eyes seemed… Not dead, but haunted. As if his own emotions were buried so deeply beneath some horror that it was no longer visible.

 _Who are you?_ James wondered, as he continued to stare. He knew that this man did not know him, any version of him, as just proven by the memory they had witnessed.

The memory.

It was horrific in a way that was different than watching a battle, but no less haunting. The child had been so skinny, so confused, so oblivious. Even then Harry had seemed far older than his age should render possible.

17\. The boy sitting in front of him was currently 17 years old. And yet Harry possessed none of the awkward blubbering and confusion that was normal hallmark of the later teen years. The man, for that was what he was, that sat before him was confident and sure. He was a leader and was obviously used to such a role.

A squeeze of James hand broke him from his musings, to find his wife's gaze trained on him, the echoing shock of hearing of her own death still rendering them a glassy appearance. She looked so defeated, and it was not a look he was used to seeing on his unstoppable wife. He wished there was something he could do to help, to ease her pain. But honestly, there was nothing anyone could do. The injustices they were witnessing were years past, and, if Harry's reactions were anything to go by, didn't even seem to be considered as anything of import.

Harry had stood there, emotionless as he watched his younger self celebrate his 11th birthday alone. He had watched as his younger self scarfed down sausages that even padfoot would not have turned his nose up at. Harry had observed as his younger self was told the true story of his own parents murder and his apparent fame for the first time. He had done all that, with not one single reaction. Not one. And James knew, becuase he had been watching, waiting to see. And he saw nothing. Just a look of resigned patience that never wavered throughout the entirety of the memory.

And that scared James like nothing in the memory itself had. Not even the knowledge of his own murder.

No.

It was the jadedness the young man had displayed that made him truly terrified. What had made someone so callous to what had obviously been child abuse? What other horrors had he witnessed that made atrocities such as those pale in comparison?

That was what terrified James. Not what he had seen, or the fact Harry didn't seem to care, but what that meant for what else they would have to watch.

Suddenly desperate for something, anything, besides the endless questions and musings of his mind, James raised his hand. To ask what, he wasn't entirely sure, but he needed to ask _something_. He needed to do something the end the depressing rambling of his thoughts. He needed to do _something_ to removed that hopeless look in Lily's eyes. He just needed to do _something._

And so he raised his hand before a question had actually formed in his mind and was speaking before he made the conscious decision to do so.

It was no surprise really, when James wanted to take back the question the moment the words left his mouth.

Idiot.

He was a bloody idiot.

But they were out there and there was nothing he could do about it now.

 _"_ _Why the bloody hell were you living with that vile woman?"_

Not necessarily the worst question ever, but one that definitely could have been phrased better. Especially if the wince that Harry gave before visibly recollecting himself was anything to go by.

Like James said, he was an idiot.

Lily seemed to be thinking along the same lines for she gave him a harsh kick under the table, even though her gaze remained focused on Harry. It seemed that even despite its terrible wording, Lily wanted to hear the answer just as badly as he did.

"A good question. The short answer is protection…" Harry began slowly, and as James watched he seemed to collect his thoughts before continuing.

"I don't know how much of this is true for this world, but in mine, there was prophecy. One that foretold the birth of the one who could bring about the downfall of the Dark Lord. I won't go into the specifics now, as it all be explained through my memories, but suffice to say there were two children who fit the requirements. Me, and Neville Longbottom."

James felt Frank start slightly at the mention of his son and saw Harry's eyes dart to him as well, understanding dawning in his eyes as he made the connection.

"Both families went into hiding but for whatever reason, Voldemort decided that I was the one the prophecy foretold. As such, he targeted my family by association. Thanks to a friends betrayal, he was able to find them, and both my parents were killed as a result." Harry paused to take another breathe before continuing.

"He killed my father first. He had stayed downstairs and tried to hold him off, but it was short fight. My dad didn't even have his wand on him."

Despite himself, James tensed at the mention of his death. Or his other's self's death, or — whatever the other James was to him. It was so strange, to hear of his own death, and he wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to react. So he didn't. Instead, he focused on what Harry said next, pushing all thoughts of him kind-of dying, out of his mind in the process.

Only to hear of his wife's death. Not exactly the type of distraction he was looking for.

"Voldemort than came up the stairs into my nursery. For reasons I won't explain right now, he gave my mother the option to stand aside. Stand aside and live. An option she turned down." Here, Harry paused and shifted slightly, suddenly appearing his age before the moment ended and he was once more the leader James was fast becoming used to.

"Her conscious sacrifice evoked a ancient form of blood magic that lent me protection. A protection that sent Voldemort's killing curse rebounding back to him and leaving me with nothing but a scar."

James leaned closer as Harry lifted his messy fringe, exposing a jagged scar. James was just able to make out the distinctive shape of lightening bolt but nothing more before it was hidden once more.

"This protection was powerful, but only worked if I resided with someone who shared my mother's blood. As such, Petunia was the only choice. As for why not anyone else? There wasn't anyone." Harry shrugged and James felt his heart sink. There were at least 4 people he could think of right then and there that would have taken Harry in a heartbeat if something ever happened to him and Lily. Were they all dead?

"All my parents immediate choices of their best friends were not available for one reason or another. Sirius Black was suspected of being the one who betrayed my parents and was left to rot in Azkaban without a trial. Peter Pettigrew was the actual traitor and had faked his own death in the process of framing Sirius, and so he was out as well. Remus would never have been allowed to keep me as I was too famous and his condition too hated. Both Alice and Frank Longbottom were tortured to insanity a few days after my parents were killed, rendering them permanent fixtures of the long term ward at St. Mungos and as such, unable to even care for Neville, who was raised by his grandmother. I honestly don't know of any others that would have been considered, and that's without adding in the complications of my fame."

"I was famous for defeating Voldemort and everyone knew my name, or at least my title as "The boy-who-lived." As such, the chance for ministry interference was high. Dumbledore didn't want me to auctioned off and so made the claim that I deserved to be raised by blood family and… Well, Petunia really was the only option then."

Shocked didn't begin to describe how James was feeling. Siriuis in Azkaban? Longbottoms insane? It didn't make any sense. It was as if he was learning about a world that was thrown through a kaleidoscope, the normal images taken and fractured, twisted and changed until it was no longer recognizable as anything close to image it once was.

How did all that happen? How was there truly no other options beside Petunia? Surely there was someone, anyone better than _Petunia._

"I know this is a lot, as it all seems to be very different than the way things worked out here and I would like to give you all time to process these events. But at the same time I want to get through these memories. I also believe that watching some more events may help to answer your questions, or at the very least help you figure out what questions you would like to ask.

So, I ask you all to join me once again, this time for the events of my first year."

James hardly had time to blink before Harry was gone, once more lost in the seas of the pensive. It was with far more trepidation that James approached the same bowl, still holding tight to Lily's hand. They were just memories. They couldn't hurt him. It all would be ok.

These thoughts kept repeating through his head, but did little to calm James' fluttering heart.

But it was the only option.

He desperately needed to figure out a way in which Harry's world made sense and the pensive seemed to be the only way to do so.

So it was with a heavy sigh that James pulled Lily and himself into the memories of his sons first year, with a desperate prayer that it wouldn't be as bad as he thought was going to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:**

So, I'm really looking for your feedback on this one guys. There are several different ways I can write the pensive scenes and I find myself unable able to settle on a single style. There is the play-by-play, like the first memory, or there is the more general way, seen in this chapter. Please, please, please let me know what you prefer, becuase I honestly can't decided.

And, as always, any other comments or feedback you have to offer is greatly appreciated. Is there a POV you think is missing? One you want to see more of? Anything you want to see plot wise? Something you just hate that do? Just let me know!

Also, (last thing I swear), I would love to have a beta for this story to help bounce ideas off of. So if anyone is interested, send me a message and we can chat.

Anyway, sorry for the long note and late update. Here's the next chapter. I had really hard time writing it and still don't love it but needed to move one so… I hope you enjoy it anyways!

 **CHAPTER 3:** "And so the golden trio was born…"

—

Sirius honestly had no clue what he was expecting as he followed his best friend into a pensive filled with his alter-dimensional godson's memories.

One thing he could say with absolute confidence was he not expecting to find himself in the dusty and overcrowded wand store. Hogwarts, yes. Diagon Alley itself, maybe. Ollivander's creepy pale eyes leering towards him with vaguely sinister words falling from his lips, definitely not. So what if a wand shared cores? What did that matter?

And then suddenly they were gone, whirling onto the next memory before Sirius even had a chance to collect himself.

Not that it would have mattered much. Sirius didn't think he could have gathered enough composure in a year, let alone a few minutes to be able to face that three-headed dog without his mouth falling open.

At least he didn't scream.

It was a close call, but he made it. James was not quiet so fortunate, a fact that made Sirius smirk in glee even as he felt the supremely disorienting feeling of changing memories once again.

Sirius opened his eyes rather warily this time, more than a little put off the last few memories. He peeled open first one eyelid and then another, feeling the tension begin to drain away as he found himself standing in the great hall at Hogwarts.

There was no mistaking the charmed ceiling, or the head table, or the charmed decorations. They were definitely at Hogwarts. And nothing was happening.

After the last few events Sirius was expecting… Well, honestly, he once more had no idea what he was expecting but it was more than casual dinner conversation.

The only thing of note were the Halloween decorations, but even those were standard. Certainly nothing compared to the life-sized bats he and James had created their second year. Now _those_ were decorations.

Sirius and Remus shared a baffled look as they both moved to stand beside James and Lily, who had stepped closer to the Gryffindor table.

His godson was a Gryffindor! Not that it was that much of a surprise. The kid practically oozed courageous leader from his pores, even just sitting at the table.

But still, it was nice to have it confirmed.

Glancing over at the table Sirius saw the scruffy little child leaning in close to say something to the red-headed child sitting near him. A Weasley, if Sirius had to guess.

A gasp to his left confirmed it, as Molly Weasley called "Ronnie!"

"My best friend since the first train ride." All eyes snapped to where Harry stood, in his seemingly trademark stance of disinterest. There was a bittersweet grin resting on his features, but Sirius also thought he could detect a hint of pride behind it.

Tuning out the memory for a moment, Sirius took the chance to look at the young man before him. Really look.

Without really realizing he was doing it, Sirius began comparing him to the Harry he already knew. The hair was the same. Eyes were the same. Glasses were not. But beyond that, there was something fundamentally different about the way this Harry carried himself. Something different in their presence or mannerisms. What it was that made them seem so different, Sirius couldn't say exactly, but it was definitely there. It made it hard to really see them as the same person.

Sirius prided himself on being a great godfather. He had been therefore all the moments, big and small in Harry's life, from his first words to his first crush. And while he could see that smiling child in the man before him, it was like a puzzle piece that didn't seem to fit quiet right. Close, but not perfect.

It was obvious this version of Harry had seem some crap. Stuff that most adults wouldn't even be able to dream up from their darkest nightmares. Hell, the first three memories had consisted of child abuse, darkly foreboding messages involving connections to mad murders and three-headed dogs. And while this current memory might seem harmless, Sirius was fairly confident it wouldn't be. Not with this kid.

One quick glance at James and Lily and Sirius knew they had found another child. The protectiveness of their stances could be interpreted no other way. And so Sirius turned his attention back to this new Harry and looked. And looked. Trying to find more than glimpses of his godson in the man in front of him.

But it wasn't there.

He just couldn't see it.

And that scared him.

Here was a person who he knew nothing about and he already had his best friends' hearts wrapped around his little finger. Or under his thumb, ready to be crushed if he so chose. One glimpse of Lily's eyes, which were still trained on the ragamuffin little child eating dinner, was all it took for Sirius to know she was lost. She had already given her heart away.

And that scared Sirius.

He had learnt that blood did not mean anything in the scheme of things. One glance at his family was all it took to know that. He and his mother had shared blood (as terrifying as it was to admit) and yet he was proud to say they were as different as night and day. So just becuase this Harry might share the same blood as his Harry, it did not necessarily mean anything.

They were too different people, and maybe that was okay.

But it was also terrifying.

Maybe it was okay he couldn't see one in the other, becuase really, they were each their own person. What was it that Dumbledore was always so found of saying? "It matters not what someone is born, but who they grow to be?" Something like that.

And it was for sure that these two kids had grow up in vastly different worlds. So maybe it was okay he couldn't relate the two Harry's, because they were still their own person. And that was okay, but it also meant that they could not treat them as the same person.

Becuase they weren't.

This wasn't the toddler who had chased Sirius around on his toy broom. This wasn't the kid who ran away to Sirius's house when James hadn't let him have dessert before dinner. This wasn't the boy who turned a brilliant shade of red every time Hannah's name was mentioned.

They weren't the same. And that was okay. But it had to be taken into consideration. These were two different people and deserved to be treated as such. And that meant Sirius would keep his distance, just as he would with anyone else, until he learnt more. Inter-dimensional godson or not, this kid was still a stranger. Sirius didn't want to give his heart away only to have it crushed and destroyed. He didn't want the same thing to happen to James and Lily, simply becuase they had mistakenly chosen to trust a stranger.

Struck by his sudden revelations, Sirius felt his stomach twist as he realized that James and Lily probably were lacking such an understanding and would most likely do just that. They looked at this new Harry and saw their son. And that wasn't okay. He wasn't their son, and while Sirius understood where they were coming from, it scared him.

He didn't want his friends to get hurt. He couldn't let that happen.

And somehow, Sirius doubted that the over protective parent deal they normally did with their son would go over well with the very Harry currently in the pensive. The little peek inside Harry's childhood that the first memory had provided had been more than enough for Sirius to know that the poor kid probably had no clue what to do with a parent. Merlin only knew how he would react to one now. And if Harry had gotten even a shred of temper that ran through both the Potter and Evans blood… Well, it wouldn't go over well to say the least.

Before he could warn his friends however, he was (rather rudely, in his opinion) interrupted by a professor running in the great hall, screaming something about a troll.

And all hell broke loose.

All thoughts of comparing he different Harrys and potentially hurt feelings were pushed from Sirius's mind as he found himself chasing after two idiotic first years.

Brilliantly idiotic first years who somehow believed they were going to be able to defeat a troll. On their own.

Bloody hell.

The members of the pensive watched in tense apprehension as the first years managed to lock the troll in room. As one, everyone appeared to let go of a collective breathe. Sirius himself felt rather weak in the knees and leant on James shoulder for support. They were safe. Anticlimactic, but safe. And even though that may not be his actual godson, Sirius was no monster and the "safe" part of that statement was all that mattered to him.

And then they heard the scream.

Bloody hell.

Sirius was proud to say that the Marauders had done a lot of crazy, hair-brained stunts in and out of Hogwarts, but even he would have to admit that this took the cake.

Battling a fully grow mountain troll without anything more than a rudimentary understanding of magic.

Yep, that was definitely one of the most insane things he had ever witnessed.

And for the first time, Sirius could understand why Mcgongall had gotten mad at him over all the stunts. The terror that was engulfing him was verging on anger and he suddenly sympathized with the hell he must have put the stern witch for all those years.

He would have to write her a note or something.

No one deserved the kind of torture he was feeling as he continued to watch.

His heart had leapt into his throat about a minute ago, when they first ran through the door and now seemed to trying to claw it's way up his throat as he watched the three little 11 year olds battle a mountain a troll.

More like dodge a mountain troll, but still. The danger level was the same. They were in a confined space with a large monster that was doing it's best with what little brain power it possessed, to kill them either way.

Sirius felt his stomach plummet as water begin to fly everywhere, the pipes bursting under the trolls brutal assault. _Please make this stop. Please let them be okay._ Sirius tried to comfort himself with the thought that he had met Harry and so he must have made it out of this okay.

And then Harry jumped on the trolls back and all thoughts, comforting and otherwise, flew from Sirius's mind.

Bloody hell.

Sirius was pretty sure James was going to have bruises from his harsh grip on his shoulder where his hand still rested, but he couldn't bring himself to release the grasp. It felt as if it was the only thing grounding him as his gaze remained glued on the horrific scene unfolding before them.

Lily let out a panicked shriek, one that sounded frighteningly similar to the one currently building in Sirius's chest, as the club missed the younger Harry's head by millimeters in a wild swing.

And then with a shouted "Wingardium Leviosa," a sickening thud, and the almighty crash of the troll hitting the ground, it was over.

Bloody hell.

As one, everyone in the pensive, both the viewers and participators alike took a second to regroup. As for Sirius, he was currently trying to remember how to convince his lungs to function. For some reason, the process seemed rather impossible at the moment.

Silence reigned as everyone tried to come to terms with what had happened. They had fought a mountain troll. Three little firsties had fought a mountain troll and won. Harry had fought a mountain troll and won. Little, malnourished, scruffy, eyes-larger-than-anything-else Harry, had fought a _mountain troll_ and won.

Bloody hell.

As a group, they all jumped as the door slammed opened with an almighty bang and the teachers entered.

If it was weird to see the students he had known, it was nothing compared to seeing the memory version of the teachers. It made Sirius's brain hurt trying to comprehend how someone that looked just like Snape was not actually the Snape he knew. That he was totally different person from a different world. It was just weird, and frankly more than he felt up to dealing with right then.

Thankfully Lily provided a nice distraction as she turned towards Harry, swelling in preparation for her verbal assault, only to be cut off by none other than Mcgonagall.

As the action part of the memory began to fade, Sirius found that with a little distance between himself and the events, Sirius could say with certainty, that Harry was definitely a Marauder, different dimension or not. Fighting a mountain troll and getting Mcgonagall herself to award points. That took some serious skill (pun fully intended). And to get that Granger girl to take the blame. It was… shocking to say the least.

The memory calmed down and everyone watched as the young Gryffindors were made their way back to the common room. The edges of the memory began to fade and Sirius braced himself for the upcoming whirlwind that occurred as the memory shifted. He just caught Harry's soft and rather cryptic comment, "And so the golden trio was born…" before all other sound was lost in the sloshing of the pensive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** Thank you so much for all of your reviews and feedback! Your comments and thoughts are what keeps this story going and I appreciate them all more than words could ever say. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, let me know what you did/didn't like, where you think the story should go, things I should do differently, if you think my characterizations are okay; I want to hear it all.

I am also still looking for a beta, so if you are at all interested, please send me a message.

Thank you all again, and without further ado, here is the next chapter.

 **CHAPTER FOUR:** _The Cost of War_

This was not fun.

Embarrassing, yes. Uncomfortable, definitely.

But not fun.

Not even close.

And Harry could not think of any way to make it better. In fact, he was pretty sure he was going to make it infinitely worse with the final memory; through the trapdoor. It made everything else that had happened pale in comparison and yet people seemed shaken by the few events they had already witnessed.

That was one thing Harry simply could not get his head around. Why did these people care so much? Over the years he had gotten rather used to Hermione's fussing and Molly's worry, but they knew him, and had for years. Why were these people he literally just met so invested in his life?

Harry's gaze surveyed the table and it occupants, feeling draw despite himself, to the Potters. His brain knew and understood that these were not his parents, that he had no claim upon them. His heart on the other hand seemed to need a little more convincing.

"I propose a short break for dinner before continuing." Dumbledore's soft voice broke the otherwise silent room with the power of starting gun, his statement seeming to act as some sort of signal to everyone else, for all at once conversations erupted in every direction.

Harry settled back in his seat, grateful for the slight reprieve, and the chance to gather his thoughts that was presented by everyone's distraction

It had been harder than he thought it would be, reliving the memories.

The events themselves weren't that difficult to watch. After all, he already knew how they ended. He had already lived through it all.

No, that wasn't what was hard.

What was to hard was watching the people in them.

It was hard seeing the naive innocence in Hermione's face, so concerned with breaking a few school rules when he knew she would spend her seventh year with him, breaking nearly every law possible. Bloody hell, they had robbed even robbed a bank together!

It was hard seeing the blatant trust in Ron's face. That unwavering loyalty, already so committed to Harry, before Ron was even old enough to understand what that meant. The same faith that had put Ron in countless life-threatening situations over the years. Robbing Gringotts had been a three person job after all.

It was hard seeing everyone he knew, even the teachers, so much younger, so much lighter. It wasn't until he looked back that he realized how much the war had changed people. How much it had taken.

Everyone seemed to look at the cost of war as a tally of bodies. How many dead people someone had known used as a mark of how much they had lost. No one considered the other costs of war.

Harry didn't even realize how old and weary McGonagall currently looked until he saw her as she had been in his first year. It wasn't until he saw Snape striding through the halls in full fury that he realized how stiffly the man had moved those last few months, years of curses finally catching up to him. Even Hagrid had changed after that final battle, his face freshly scarred and a jaded look in his eye that would never have been seen during his first year.

In many ways, the dead had it easy. No grieving. No one to be strong for. No more emotional break downs. No more responsibility. No changes to bear through. Just… Nothing.

And looking at who the people he considered among his closest friends used to be, compared to who they were now, Harry thought he understood at last the true cost of war.

It was a price that went far beyond dead bodies. It cost people their livelihoods, their peace of mind, their innocence. It changed them on a fundamental level that was seen only in comparison.

And so war was tallied in body counts instead.

After all, how did one measure a person's personality?

"Harry?"

A soft voice jolted Harry from his spiraling thoughts and he looked up to find himself face to face with none other than his moth- with Lily Potter.

"Yes ma'am?" He questioned, striving for the distance his brain demanded, much to his yearning heart's displeasure.

"Please, call me Lily."

God, even her smile was perfect.

"I just wanted to come over and introduce myself and see if you needed anything."

He was hearing his mother's voice. He was hearing his mother's voice. He was hearing his mother voice.

Shutting his suddenly gaping mouth with a harsh clattering of teeth, Harry shook himself slightly, trying to regather his scattered thoughts. Forcing a smile that probably more closely resembled a grimace than anything else, Harry replied with what he hoped was a calm voice, "No thank you. I'm fine for now."

"Are you sure dear?"

The soft touch on his arm caused Harry to flinch instinctively despite its gentle nature, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Lily.

"Yeah. I am sure. Just a little… Disorientated." Harry flashed another forced smile that felt as unnatural and painful and it probably looked.

"Okay then… You just let me know if you need anything okay?"

An uncomfortable silence descended between the pair, neither knowing what to say to other. What was the proper ettiequte for greeting cross-dimensional relatives?

"Do you have any siblings?"

Harry jumped at the unexpected question and felt inexplicably flustered as he fumbled with a response. "Er-no. My parents were killed when I was a just over a year old. I don't know if they were planning to have any more kids…"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in a clear sign of anxiety, the tense silence descending once more. Searching desperately searching for something, anything, to break the awkwardness, Harry blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Does this Harry have- er- I mean, do you have any children?"

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why would she want to to tell you anything? Nosy idiot-

"Yes. I have four."

Harry's internal scolding was brought to a rather abrupt halt by Lily's response. It had never occurred to home that he could've had siblings if his parents had lived. What if's were something he tended to try to avoid on principle, long experience teaching him the pain such an activity often brought, and even when he did indulge himself, he never really considered himself as an older brother.

Not to say he was adverse to the idea.

Watching the Weasley's interact with one another, Harry had often found himself longing for the easy companionship that was found amongst the siblings. Even with their rather rambunctious teasing, their care and love for another was clear for all to see, each one sharing a kind of effortless understanding of one another Harry had often found himself envying, even if he didn't fully understand it.

Seeming to realize that Lily had piqued Harry's interest she continued on, giving a brief description of each of her children.

"The eldest is Harry, or our version of Harry. You two don't actually look that similar, but close enough to guess that you could perhaps be brothers. You share the curse of the Potter hair and my eyes, although your build is much slimmer than my Harry's. He is 17, nearly 18, which I am assuming is the same age you are.

Next is Rosemary or Rose as she likes to be called. She is 14 and going into her fourth year at Hogwarts She has my red hair with James's hair ability to defy gravity, a rather interesting combination. She has James's eyes along with his love of pranks and everything quidditch.

After Rose is Violet. She is like her sister in personality but nearly her exact opposite in looks. She is 12 and in is going to start her second year in august. She has James's hair color and eyes, but my build and hair texture.

The baby of the family is little William, or Will as he firmly reminds us. He is different than his sisters, much more quiet with my red hair and far more bookish tendencies than any of his other siblings. Despite that, he is a little spitfire when he sets his mind to be, and has a stubborn streak wide enough to rival James's. He just turned 11 a few weeks ago, and is currently eagerly and rather impatiently, awaiting his Hogwarts letter."

Listening to Lily talk about her children, Harry felt his already aching heart give another painful twinge.

It was apparent in everything Lily did, from her tone of voice to the gleam in her eye, how much she loved all her kids. The kind of love he had always yearned for. The kind of love he would give anything to have and call his own.

To have it so clearly displayed by the woman who was almost his mother was almost more than he could take.

Not his mother. Not his. Not his. Not his

Harry repeated what was fast becoming his mantra of survival in this new world as Lily finished her descriptions.

Her green eyes, so similar to his own, danced merrily, trying to put him at ease as she continued to describe some of the more memorable escapes her children had taken part in over the years.

And it worked.

Harry felt himself begin to relax, his mantra forgotten for the moment as he lost himself in entertaining tales of childhood mishaps. It was easy as he listened to her talk, to forget who she was and what she represented and instead lose himself in the funny stories.

It was a distraction he sorely needed, as muscles he hadn't even realized were tense relaxed and his smiles slowly became more genuine as he cautiously allowed himself to become immersed in tales of what his life might have been.

###########################

Lily watched in satisfaction as Harry began to unwind before her very eyes. For the first time since she had seen him, he looked his age. And yet, somehow, it seemed to make him look that much older.

The haunted look in his eyes, the borderline paranoid way his gaze never stopped surveying the room, were things that were easier to accept as part of a man, than it was for a child.

And he was a child.

For all of his poise and manners and skills, Harry was still a child, barely out of Hogwarts.

It was something that was easy to forget, when he carried himself in a way that belied any sense of youth. It was something beyond his measured movements. It was something beyond the scars that littered his skin, beyond the jumpiness and well-honed instincts.

It was the aura he projected, a feeling of casual power, of effortless leadership, she had seen only in the great wizards of the time. Wizards that knew the power they held and were confident enough in their ability to wield it that they no longer felt the need to flaunt it.

It was a presence she had only ever seen in older wizards, such as Dumbledore himself, and it was that beyond all else that made it hard to Lily to remember she was speaking to a child, rather than a seasoned leader.

Her sharp eyes proceeded to study the young man before her as she continued on with her tale. It was a favorite amongst friends and family alike, and required little if any conscious thought for her to share, leaving her free to study Harry to her hearts content.

 _He has a nice laugh_ , she though to herself, as she watched his face scrunched in mirth. It was different than her Harry's, seeming to be lighter and softer, lacking the boldness her son's laugh held, while possessing just the faintest hint of surprise, as if this Harry didn't expect to be laughing.

"And just what is so funny over here?"

If looks could kill, James would be little more than a shapeless blob on the floor from the ferocity of the glare Lily was shooting his way.

She loved her husband with all of her heart and soul but sometimes he has the tact of bull in a china shop.

Lily ignored her husband and watched in dismay as Harry withdrew before her very eyes. It seemed that whatever comfort he was able to find in the story was gone, shattered by Jame's thoughtless intrusion.

Back was the mask of the ageless leader, settling into place until no trace of the amused child that had made such a brief appearance remained.

Curse her husband and his wretched timing.

Curse it all.

"Nothing sir."

Harry's voice was calm but reserved and Lily watched how he eyed James, taking in everything from his his messy hair to his scuffed shoes. It was clear Harry was assessing him, measuring him up as one would an opponent.

 _Is that really how he sees us? A threat?_ The thought caused another crack in Lily's already broken heart, not that she could really blame the boy. After all, she knew her sister, and based on that first memory alone, his childhood had been even worse than she would have guessed..

"Er-" James began to shift uncomfortably, seeming to have suddenly caught onto the fact that he had interrupted something. "Well, um, I had a quick question actually, if you don't mind that is…"

Watching Harry and James side by side, it was easy to see the resemblance between the two. Harry was built on a much slimmer frame than her husband, but the overall look was the same, the trademark bed-head hairdo making them look even more alike.

"Er- see, Sirius mentioned something about the 'golden trio' and well, I was just curious what you meant by that."

Lily blinked blankly at her husband, rather ticked off that he had interrupted her conversation, her attempt to bond, in order to ask about a stupid title.

If looks could kill…

Harry nodded in acknowledgment, his hand trailing though his hair seemingly without conscious thought, in a gesture Lily recognized as something James did when he was anxious.

"The golden trio is a title given to my friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and I. As I mentioned previously, I was rather famous back home, and as you perhaps noticed, I seem to have an uncanny ability to attract trouble. It is a rather heady combination that lead to more than our fair share of notoriety over the years, both in and out of school, and gave rise to the name. Another group of students that were also key leaders in the war were occasionally called the Silver Trio. Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom, all of whom are brilliant people and among my best friends."

Lily did not miss the way he said 'other key leaders in the war,' and she did not like the implications of that at all. She hated to think of any child having to play any role in the war, but for it to be her almost son…

She hated it.

And to make matters worse he had said 'key' leaders

If the silver trio had been 'key leaders,' what did that make the golden trio? Were the face of the war itself?

No.

She quickly discounted that thought as impossible. No one would be stupid enough to put that much faith, or that much pressure, on mere teenagers. They would have more common sense than that.

Wouldn't they?

Her confidence that she had been wrong, that had seemed so strong mere seconds before, slipped through her fingers like water. Everything else is his world was wrong, why not this as well? Why not make school children the face of an entire war?

"What did you mean by key leaders?"

The question slipped passed her lips before she even realized what happened.

Stupid.

She was an idiot.

Mortified at her inexcusable lack of tact and hoping it didn't ruin whatever thin sense of camaraderie they have managed to build in the last few minutes, Lily quickly tried to retract her statement only to be halted by Harry's raised hand.

"It's fine. Honestly. It's all going to come out anyway."

Here, Harry paused, his hand once again trailing through his already untidy hair.

"I was seen by the public as the poster child for the light side. Add to that my adventures, often with my friends by my side, we quickly became the prominent faces in the war, not always for the light side. I was even granted the title of Undesirable Number 1 for a time, in connection to the murder of a trusted mentor."

Lily found herself speechless.

So much for people having common sense.

Accusing a child of murder? Who had died? An infant the vanguard of the light sight?

None of it made any sense.

What sort of insane demon crazed hell-hole did this kid come from?

Finding herself with an overwhelming urge to offer comfort, however meager it may be, Lily reached out her hand and rested it gently atop Harry's interwoven ones, ignoring his slight stiffening at her touch.

She opened her mouth to offer some words of comfort as well, only to be cut off by none-other than Kreacher.

A clean, seemingly sane Kreacher.

"Master Harry Potter sir! Its beings yous! I beings a findings Master Harry Potter sirs!"

And just when Lily was sure things couldn't get any weirder, she watched Kreacher, the most blood-purist, miserable, evil, house elf she had every met, hug Harry Potter with a grin clearly creasing his aged face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

 **A/N:** Hello again! Sorry long time no update; life has been a little insane. I am still looking for a beta, so if anyone is interested, feel free to message me (I promise I don't bite)!

As always, comments, critiques, reviews of any kind welcome and appreciated. It is your encouragement that motivates me to keep writing. Thank you all so much!

Well, enough babbling, here is the next chapter. It's a little short and I apologize, but hopefully the next one will be out soon.

 **CHAPTER FIVE:** " _He Was Gone"_

There needed to be a word beyond fear. Beyond terror even. For, as she stood there watching Harry vanish before her very eyes, neither one of those terms came anyway close to describing the emotion she was feeling. It was worse than panic, heavier than horror and more soul crushing than guilt. It was an emotion she had felt as she had seen Harry's still form cradled in Hagrid's arms at the end of the battle. It was loss with so much more punch too it. It was indescribable, and as Hermione stared at the spot where her best friend had once stood, she, for once in her life, found herself at a loss for words.

He was gone.

Harry Potter was gone.

Even now, many days later, she still could not express what exactly was coursing through her veins further than it was eating at her very being. It was chipping away at her very existence.

He was gone.

Again and again that day played over in her mind, like a scratched record, unable to move beyond the damaged point. And Harry's disappearance had damaged her. Had hurt her in her core.

It wasn't supposed to go this way. They had won. _Harry_ had won. Of course there were still issues, still death eaters and their supporters out there, but they had won. _Harry_ had won.

And then he was gone.

The little boy with the shy smile who took the time to save her that first year, and had been saving her ever since, was gone.

Hermione wasn't stupid. She was many things, but stupid was not one of them and she knew that Harry blamed himself for most of the war. That he thought he had dragged Ron and Hermione behind him into danger with him, but he was wrong. It was an ongoing battle between them, one of the few things that could truly get any of them angry at one another any more, this idea that both her and Ron would have better off if they had never met Harry.

They may have been safer (which was still debatable), but there was no question that they would not have been better off. Harry didn't even realize the power he held, the way his unwavering loyalty and acceptance drew people to him. The way his kind and gentle nature allowed him to change people, including herself.

And now he was gone, and words were still failing her.

"Hermione?" Ron's hand came to rest on her shoulder, his steady presence helping her anchor her thoughts. They could do this. Just because Harry was gone, didn't mean he was… Well, it didn't mean they couldn't get him back.

"I'm fine." The words were past her lips without conscious thought, her shoulders pulling back and her chin rising out of habit. She was fine. Ron was fine. Harry was fine. They were all _fine._

God, she hated that word. Such a stupid, fake word. Becuase she wasn't fine. Ron wasn't fine. Harry wasn't fine. Nothing was fine.

Their best friend was missing, presumed injured at best and dea—, well, injured was the best case. They just got out of war and had somehow become the ones that everyone looked to for answers. Answers she didn't have but was expected to give nonetheless. Answers that other people relied and acted upon. Answers —

"Hermione."

Ron's hand gave a squeeze, jolting Hermione from her spiraling thoughts.

"Sorry." A response as ingrained as 'fine,' her apology garnered her nothing more than a gentle look from Ron, before he guided her towards a seat closer to the fire.

"Come on. Sit down. I'll ask Kreacher to get us something to eat."

Eyes open and staring, Hermione complied with the easy acquiesce of a doll, unable to fully drag her thoughts into the present. Nothing seemed real anymore.

Harry was gone.

She had been full of a manic energy those first few days, spending nearly every second in the library, looking for answers. And when that hadn't made them any progress, she and Ron had tried talking to portraits, including Dumbledore's. Then they tried searching the Black family library. Then tried questioning Death Eaters. And then they were out of ideas. Out of ideas, out of leads, out of everything.

And Harry was still gone.

"Hermione."

Ron was in front of her, holding out a cup of tea she had no recollection of him ever ordering.

"Thanks." Another automatic response.

Is that all she had left? Habits that were followed without her conscious consent? It was just so much easier to drift, to stay lost, than face the present. The present with no Harry and so many responsibilities she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball in a dark corner and leave them for someone else to deal with.

But that wasn't an option.

And so she pushed herself to focus. To think. To try and find a solution.

She needed to figure out how to help Harry. Maybe, maybe, maybe — Her brain stuttered to an exhausted halt as she all but collapsed back into the cushions of the chair, her eyes never leaving the flickering flames of the fire. The cup of tea was warm against her palms, a physical reminder of where she was.

Safe. She was safe.

Ron's arm twined across her shoulder, another sign that she was safe. That they won. That it was all okay.

It was amazing how such a basic idea had come to be so hard to remember. Hermione, the girl who could remember every lecture nearly word for word and yet couldn't remember that she no longer needed to hide her friends and herself from the world. Who couldn't remember how to exist without panic induced adrenaline rushing through her veins. Who struggled to remember what safe even meant.

And yet that safety no longer existed did it? They may have won but it wasn't all okay.

Harry was gone.

He was gone.

She had to find him. But how? That was the question that was rushing through Hermione's mind, chasing itself in circles much like a dog would chase it's tail. Exhausting and unproductive yet unable to be stopped. He had to have been sent somewhere, but wherever it was, it was someplace no humans could go. Between herself and Ron, they had to have tried nearly every tracking and transportation spell ever created. Nothing. It had all led to nothing.

Words failed her. Books failed her. And now she was stuck with no idea how to move forward.

And then she heard the pop of Kreacher's arrival and a lightbulb went off.

Kreacher.

"Kreacher!" Hermione was on her feet and moving before the plan had even fully formed within her mind but it didn't matter.

She had an idea. Something they could try. She had a way forward.

"Kreacher, you can find Harry!"

Ron and Kreacher turned her, the same wary expressions coating their features in the face of her enthusiastic call. Had she been in a different frame of mind, she might have even laughed at their nearly identical reactions. But as it was, she didn't even manage a quirk of her lips. She had a lead. She had something she was going to try. And damn it if it wasn't going to work. It had to work.

"You're bound to Harry right?" Hermione's heart beat in rhythm to Kreacher's nod of confirmation, anticipation coating her palms in sweat.

"You are bound to him regardless of where he is and therefore can follow him wherever he is right?"

Hermione stood still, hardly daring to breathe, as comprehension washed over the features of both the little elf and Ron. Kreacher could find Harry. She knew he could. Didn't she know better than anyone that House Elves were not fully human? They were a magical species all their own, with their own branch of magic and own rules.

Kreature could find Harry. He had to.

"Can you do it?" Ron's voice shook and within that short sentence Hermione knew that Ron too, was being eaten away by the same emotion that made it feel like an elephant was sitting on her chest. The same emotion that made her hands tremble and tears glaze her eyes. The same emotion that demanded Kreacher to leave that moment. The same emotion that meant this had to work. It had to becuase Harry was gone.

He was gone.

"Kreacher can be trying but Kreacher is not be knowing if it will be working."

"Try. Please." Hermione bit her lip in desperation as she met Kreacher's uncertain gaze. Her breathe was caught in her chest, as if even that slight movement might effect Kreacher's decision. He had to try. He had to. It was the last chance they had of finding Harry. He had to try and it had to work. Damn it to hell and back, this had to work. It had to.

All earlier thoughts of drifting were gone, banished from her mind in the presence of this new idea. She had a lead now, an idea to work with. She finally had a new theory and she was going to try and test it until she figured out how to get Harry back. And so she stared into Kreacher's oversized eyes and tried to will him with her gaze alone to help them.

One nod. That was all it took.

And then Kreacher was gone.

He was gone.

Harry was gone.

And Hermione was once more left staring into space, hoping against hope that her friend would come back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Words cannot describe how sorry I am for how long it took to get this update out, and I don't even really have a good excuse beyond real life can be crazy and writer's block is a real thing. I would like to give a huge shoutout to my beta, Feyre Archeon for all her help and support throughout this crazy process, as well as my sincerest thanks to everyone that favorited, followed, or reviewed; your support is what has kept this story alive and going.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and as always, please feel free to let me know what you guys think! Thank you for reading!

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 **Chapter 6:** " _He needed a break"_

Harry had all of second to react before he found himself accosted by a beaming house elf.

"Kreacher had found the Master Harry Potter Sir. Kreacher is most pleased. Kreacher has found Master. Kreacher has found him. Yes…"

The mumblings went on and on as everyone looked on in shocked silence.

"Kreacher?" Harry's brain scrambled to catch up with the sudden change of events, the name falling from his lips without actual consideration.

Harry felt the aged elf nod against his midsection, which was quickly becoming damp with Kreacher's tears.

"Why you little ba-"

The next thing Harry was aware of, was the feeling of his wand pressed against Sirius' throat.

Shit.

Harry had overreacted. He knew that, even as he felt his godfather shift beneath where he had pinned him against the floor. But at the same time, Harry could not muster up much regret.

Sirius had tried to kill Kreacher.

Harry knew it, even as he stared into his Godfather's burning gaze, meeting his eyes for one of the first times since he had arrived.

Sirius had been about to kill Kreacher and while Harry was not sure what had happened in this world, and while he could understand that such an action was probably very justifiable, Harry could not stand back and allow the elf to be murdered.

Not after everything. Not since Kreacher became one of his friends. Especially not since Kreacher became one of his few friends left _alive_.

And so Harry steeled his heart as best he could and met Sirius's furious glare, boldly and without a trace of his own pain showing on his face.

Instead, he channelled every bit of fury he could, using every tactic he had ever learnt from Snape, or anyone else, desperate to get his point across the thick-headed man.

"Do. Not. Touch. Him."

He knew it had worked the moment he felt Sirius flinched beneath him and looked away.

Harry nodded, satisfied he had been able to get his point across, and stood up, allowing Sirius a chance to escape from where Harry ahd trapped him.

They both stood, wary of each other and unsure of how to continue from this point.

Surprisingly, it was Kreacher's voice that shattered the silence and the stalemate, "Master Harry Potter Sir does Kreacher need to hurt Sirius for yous sirs? Kreacher will protect Master Harry Potter Sirs. Kreacher will. Kreacher even brought his knife from the battle see Master Harry Potter Sirs."

Harry's head snapped back towards Kreacher, a tired smile playing across his features as he saw the little elf enthusiastically waving the blood stained kitchen knife he had first acquired during the final battle. He knew he should perhaps feel some alarm at Kreacher's obvious enthusiasm, but couldn't summon the energy. Just as he understood where Sirius was coming from, so to did he understand Kreacher.

"That's okay Kreacher. I think everyone was just a little confused."

Sirius snorted but a glare from Harry and a well placed elbow from James, who had come to stand beside his friend at some point, helped the man hold his tongue in check.

"Kreacher?" That was his mo- That was Lily, who still sat beside him, her eyes wide in her pale face as she glanced from Sirius to Harry to Kreacher and back again. Harry could practically see her cataloguing each of them, desperately trying to figure out a way to make the pieces of the puzzle fit together.

He knew that look. It was the same look Hermione got when she found a new spell, and he knew from experience that nothing could deter the woman until she found the answer she was searching for. And so it was with a resigned sigh Harry stood and set about answering questions and making introductions.

Again.

"Er- well, yeah so this is Kreacher. Or well, my version of Kreacher. Kreacher I think you know everyone or er- at least an alternative dimensional version of these people?" Harry trailed off, his tone making his last statement a question as he struggled to figure out how to explain what exactly was going on.

"Yes Master Harry Potter Sir. Kreacher is being knowing most of these people Master sirs."

"Master?"

That was Remus and Harry lurched slightly as he met the man's gaze for the first time. He looked so much younger here…

Harry quickly shook his head, as if that could physically dislodge the memories currently assaulting his mind.

"Er- yeah well I don't know how it worked out here, but back home Sirius was my godfather," Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the animagus, his heart yearning in his chest for the man he had once known and loved. But with yet another vigourous jerk, Harry forced himself back into the present; to focus on the events that were currently unfolding around him.

"After his- after he- Once Sirius-," Even after all these years, it was still hard to say it outloud. "I was Sirius sole heir. He left me everything. Everything included Kreacher."

Here Harry shrugged as he considered that first year of owning Kreacher. The hatred they shared and perpatured between it each other. He thought about the locket and the simple, yet necessary conversation that changed it all.

"It took a little while, but eventually figured each other out and became friends."

"Master Harry Potter Sir is the best Master." Kreacher added, leaving Harry blushing in embarrassment as everyone continued to stare between him and Kreacher.

"I-I died?"

Damn.

He was really getting too tired for this. Too tired of his heart clenching at every syllable the man spoke.

"Yes." One curt word. Hard as ice, made without emotion or eye contact. It was all Harry could manage without breaking down completely.

Yes. Sirius died.

Yes. Sirius died because of the stupid actions of his foolhardy godson.

Yes. It nearly killed Harry getting over it.

Yes. He still missed him.

Yes. He really would just like to leave right about now.

The list went on and on. Such a simple word that explained so much.

"How?"

Damn.

Another simple word that unfortunately did not have a simple answer. And Harry was not up for more than simple answers.

And so the silence stretched on.

And on.

And on.

And still Harry couldn't not muster the energy, the courage, the strength - the whatever he needed to explain.

"Did I die in Azkaban?"

"No." That was easy. Anothing simple answer. He could do that. He could do simple responses.

Maybe if Harry could find a way to answer all of the questions in monosyllabic responses, he could make it through this.

"How then?"

Silence.

Another complicated answer.

Another story.

Another memory.

Another silence.

Until Kreacher spoke his croaky voice seeming to echo as he did his best to help his master.

"The Dark Lord killed Master Sirius Sirs."

Harry let his hand fall on the elf's shoulder in silent thanks for answering the question, finding himself leaning slightly on the wizened creature, as standing suddenly seemed to difficult a task for him.

It was all too much; just like that. He was done.

Done with all.

Done with the stares, the questions, the memories, and the what-ifs that plagued him no matter where he looked.

So with a shaking hand, Harry raised his wand to his temple, carefully placing the memories he called forth into the pensive before him, giving each one nothing more than the barest amount of thought possible for the spell to work.

He knew Dumbledore had called a break, and he knew there was a reason for that. But Harry need a break as well. Hell- he had made it through a conversation with his parents for merlin's sake.

He deserved a break.

Harry was not one to run away from a fight. He had proven time and time again he was more than willing to face impossible odds with nary a twitch of fear displayed.

But he was human and this was one battle that he just couldn't face. One war he was simply too tired to wage. His emotions continuously pushed against the hard logic he forced himself to consider, and honestly it was exhausting.

He could handle this. He had to at some point. But that point did not need to be now. Could not be now.

Now, he needed a break.

Now, he needed to be done.

And so with a weary tone, Harry gestured towards the pensive. "Here are the next series of memories. Watch them at your leisure, and I will answer all questions in the morning. As for now, Kreacher and I have some catching up to do."

Harry looked around to see everyone staring at him, shock still plastered across their features from the speed of recent events, but Harry was not in the mood to give them a chance to catch up.

He needed a break.

He was done.

With fatigue that went far beyond the physical weighing down his steps, Harry turned and began to the long trudge to the room he had claimed as his own, Kreacher following faithfully in his wake.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (unfortunately).

A/N: Hello all! So sorry for the late update, hopefully the next one will be out soon and thanks to everyone who's stuck around this long. As always, please let me know what you guys think. Feel free to let me know what you did/didn't like, who you want to see more/less of, what you want to happen next and anything else that comes to mind. Thank you all so much, it's your continued support that keeps this story alive.

But enough rambling and on with the story!

(Warning: There are bad words in this chapter)

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Chapter 7: ' _Not hers'_

The silence left in Harry's wake was complete and echoing. It seemed to have a mind of its own, winding its way around each and every person, twining around Lily and crawling into the cracks forming in her already aching heart.

Things had been going so well.

He had _laughed_.

And just like that it was over. The child that had appeared so briefly was gone, as completely as if he had never even existed.

The look on his face as he confirmed Sirius's death…

Sirius's death.

Lily felt her breath catch in her chest, the thought physically painful as it lodged itself firmly in her thoughts.

Sirius died.

Dead.

As in breathing no longer.

Sirius was James's friend first and foremost. Lily knew that. Understood that. Accepted it. But she also knew that they had their own relationship, independent of the one that existed between him and her husband.

The thought of him gone…

Lily looked over and saw her husband similarly shocked, his face pale as he stared at the spot Harry had last stood.

Harry…

The pain had been tangible around him, sending Lily's mothering instincts wild and she fought desperately to keep from smothering the child.

 _Not hers. Not hers. Not hers._

She kept the chant firmly in mind as she willed herself to stay in the dining room and not chase after the boy, as her body was desperately yearning to do.

 _Not hers. Not hers. Not hers._

Again and again. Over and over. She kept repeating the words to herself, trying to make her emotions see reason but they remained steadfastly oblivious to the situation and her mantra did nothing to ease her aching heart.

Because as far as her feelings were concerned, he was hers. She had decided that the moment she had heard his name.

Harry James Potter.

Her son.

But it as so much more complicated than that.

Of course it was more complicated than that.

So Lily struggled, trying to convince herself that what she was doing what was right. Reminding herself that she was stranger to the boy and that as much as she wished otherwise, he did not know her. He was not the little boy she had raised from birth.

But he was still her son.

And that meant that even though it just about tore her apart, Lily kept her feet firmly planted on the ground, and her hands remained tightly wound around chair upon which she sat.

He was her son, and she would do anything to help him, even if it meant hurting herself.

So she remained sitting, her body fairly trembling with the effort.

Lily Potter was many things, but she was not an idiot.

She had seen the conflict, the _agony_ , that filled the boy's gaze when he looked at her and James. When he looked at Sirius.

Oh he was a good actor, perhaps the best she had ever seen.

But he had one fatal tell. No matter how blank his face, how firmly he plastered a smile across his features, his eyes continued to betray him. Maybe it was simply because they were so like her own, but Lily could see every emotion clearly reflected in those emerald depths, and it just about killed her; the pain she had seen pooling within them.

Watching her, and everyone else that he had lost - interacting with the loved ones he had never had - was breaking that poor boy.

She had seen the pain fade some, had watched it get easier for him through their conversation, and she had felt hope rise in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to help. But the sheer exhaustion she had seen when as he turned to leave...

It was the kind of exhaustion that had no place on the face of teenager.

It was the exhaustion of a warrior at the end of a war.

And she knew that he needed a break. That her going up there, a living, breathing, reminder of all that he had lost, would do nothing to help right now.

There would come a time for that - she would make sure of it - but that time was not now.

So Lily remained rooted to the spot in that rotten room, feeling as if her heart was being ripped farther from her chest with every weary step Harry took away from her.

But still she did not move.

But still she did not make a sound.

She did nothing more than repeat her mantra and pray to whatever power that may be listening to help that lost little boy. Because he was her son, and she was damned if she would ever let anything ever hurt him again. Not on her watch.

 _Not hers. Not hers. Not hers._

But her chant was no more helpful the 72nd time than it had been the first time. Every bone in her body still ached to go comfort the hurting child.

But she couldn't.

But she still needed to do something.

Lily's gaze spotted the pensive, sitting calmly on the table.

The recently refilled pensive.

The pensive full of her son's memory.

She might not be able to help him, but maybe she could understand him.

With what could probably be termed an excessive amount of maternal energy propelling her forward, Lily practically threw herself into the pensive, falling into the pearly liquid before anyone even realized what she was doing.

#########################

Breathe.

When was the last time he had remember to breathe?

Remus wasn't sure, so busy was he staring at the seat Harry had so recently occupied.

Dead.

Sirius was dead.

Remus wasn't sure why, but for someone reason that one fact was the tipping point for him. The final bit of information that brought his hard fought understanding crashing around him.

Because nothing made sense. None of it. The rules of logic and reason that had seemed so real mere hours before were falling around him, leaving him standing amongst the rubble with no idea how to begin rebuilding.

Everyone was dead. The other kids didn't even exist. The Longbottoms were insane.

And Harry…

No.

None of this made sense.

Remus closed his burning eyes, the darkness serving as a brilliant backdrop against the wild images his brain was concocting of his friends death. Their pale skin, unmoving chests, glazed eyes.

Dead.

Everyone was dead and none of this made sense.

And that was not okay. This had to make sense. It had to. It just had to right?

Because… Because…

But Remus floundered, unable to come up with an explanation nor a reason why there had to be one.

Didn't he know better than anyone that life didn't make sense? But still, there was something inherently wrong with this other world, so wrong that it went beyond a singular bad event or a bad moment. It was as if the world itself was cursed and nothing could ever go right for anyone, including his friends, none of whom seemed to be alive anymore.

Dead.

Everyone there was dead.

Breathe.

Remus drew a shuddering breath into his aching chest, his eyes slowly opening in a desperate attempt to dim the images playing across his thoughts.

And he had thought things were shitty here…

Screw the information the kid had - he was making things better simply by showing them all had much worse things could be.

Remus still felt the same he had before meeting Harry about a lot of things. He was still terrified for his friends and those he considered his family. He was still worried and anxious and stressed and simply exhausted over it all.

But now he was also horrifically, weak-at-the-knees _grateful._

Grateful that he still had friends and family to worry about. Grateful that he wasn't dull to the struggles of those around him. Grateful that he was still aware enough to care. Grateful that things were not so terrible that he had to pretend that everything was okay even when things were obviously falling to shambles around him.

Because this Harry didn't have these things _._ He didn't seem to have hardly anyone left to worry about. Hell, the kid didn't even seem like he was able to show emotion any more.

This kid stood there, nary an expression on his face and told the story of his family's brutal murder. He had stuttered over mention of Sirius's death but still, not one flash of feeling showed on his face. Only a tiny stumble.

And Remus was grateful he did not have that kind of control. Grateful that he did not need it.

Because it made no sense at all.

What kind of world had the kid come from where showing that he was human could be such a terrible thing? And perhaps worst of all was the ease with which the child did this all. The ease with which he had watched his younger self face horrors that had set Remus's chest clenching in terror.

Nothing made sense.

And suddenly Lily was moving.

Her motion was abrupt and sudden. One moment she was sitting and the next she was flinging herself into the murky waters of the pensive, jolting Remus from his spiraling thoughts.

Lily.

Poor Lily.

Lily with her heart of gold and protective streak brighter than her hair. Lily whose cross-dimensional child had just shown up with enough horrors in his past to rival anyone Remus had ever met and a indifferent air about him that made it all the more terrible.

It was like the child didn't even know how horrible his life had been. As if he didn't even realize his life had apparently been nothing more than a glorified shit show.

And suddenly Remus knew that Lily should not be in the pensive alone. She should not be in there, facing whatever new horrors Harry had left for them to experience without the support of her friends and family.

She shouldn't be alone through this.

That thought made sense and Remus clung to it like a drowning man clings to a life raft.

She shouldn't face this alone.

Remus pulled his body from the chair even as he fought to pull his mind from the swirling daze of confusion it had become caught in.

LIly shouldn't face this alone.

Remus kept the thought firmly in mind as he grabbed first James and then Sirius, both of whom appeared too lost in their own ruminations to be aware of anything else, and began dragging towards the pensive.

When James turned to him, his hazel eyes glazed and overwhelmed Remus simply dipped his head in the direction the man's wife had disappeared and offered his friend the same knowledge that was saving him.

"Lily shouldn't face that alone."

That was all it took to snap James to attention and he began walking of his own volition, leading the way into the pensive. Remus let him take the lead and simply continued pulling an apparently shell-shocked Sirius along behind him.

Nothing made any sense.

But Lily shouldn't have to face these memories alone.

And so Remus dove back into the memories of a boy he was struggling to understand.

Maybe, this would make things make sense.

A desperate hope that was quashed before the memory had even played a full ten minutes.

Nothing about this made sense at all.


	8. Chapter 8

Hello! Here is another chapter. It's a little on the shorter side but hopefully the next one will be out soon. Thank you so much for my beta Feyre Archeon and everyone else who has stuck around this long. Your comments and supports are what keeps this story alive. As always, please don't hesitate to let know what y'all think, both good and bad, as well as if you guys have any suggestions for what you want to see moving forward. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

 **Chapter 8:** "Something wasn't right"

Something wasn't right.

James knew it from the moment he set foot in the pensive. He knew it as he strode over to his wife. He knew it even as his arm settled to rest protectively around her.

Something wasn't right.

For one, there was nothing happening. Simply indertiment shapes and misty figures rushing around him in a chaos of shadows.

Then there were the sounds.

Something wasn't right.

There were voices but they were distorted and garbled and James found himself sharing a befuddled look with Sirius over his wife's head.

What was going on here?

"I don't think that Harry meant to put this memory in here…" Remus said softly, apparently noting the confused expression on his friend's features.

How could he not have meant to include a memory? James wondered to himself before all thought was wiped from his mind as the scene sharpened around him into sudden clarity.

Death Eaters materialized around him as he found himself in what could only be called a battle in the most general of terms. It looked more like unrestrained chaos than anything else.

There was none of the semi-organized rules that typically controlled a fight. Rather, spells were cast with little to no thought as to their target, the bright streaks flying wildly around the room, hitting friends and foes alike as people dropped indiscriminately to the ground.

What the hell?

Jame's arm tightened around Lily as he instinctively pulled her out of the way of a nasty looking hex, still struggling to figure out what was happening.

"Sirius…"

James looked on in confusion between his wife and best friend, who still stood beside him, at his wife's soft exclamation only to find Lily looking at something in the entirely opposite direction.

Following her gaze, James found himself struck breathless, unconsciously copying his beloved as his friend's name fell from his lips in shock.

"Sirius..."

The man that James was watching looked nothing like the one that stood beside him. Rather he was a twisted shadow of the person of the man James knew and loved.

Something wasn't right.

The other man's hair was in a state of disrepair beyond what could be explained by the wildness of the battle, his features hollow and gaunt like those of a man much older than he had any right to be.

But it went beyond that, just like Harry's differences went way beyond appearance. Again, this alter-dimensional version of the man he knew so well seemed nothing more than a darkened mockery of who he was meant to be. His eyes were jaded in a way James couldn't even comprehend, his face wrinkled in a way that brought to mind harshness rather than the laughter that should have rested there.

Something wasn't right here.

And yet James could only watch helplessly as the man dueled with reckless abandon, a crazed look dancing in his eyes as he engaged in what could no more be called a duel than this entire situation could be called a battle.

It was a dance with death.

Bellatrix and her cousin's wands nothing more than blurs as they dodged and twirled past spells so powerful James could feel the heat coming from them where he stood, several paces away. Their movements were graceful and yet there was a jaggedness to their actions. A harshness in their slashes and steps that spoke of experiences James could not even bring himself to guess at and was all the more terrifying for it, their bodies still managing to move at a speed that belied all comprehension. They did not even spare the time to check and see whether their spells hit the mark.

Always dancing. Always moving.

As the pair drew ever closer to the dias that stood in the middle of room James suddenly understood what was happening.

Something definitely was not right here.

He knew that arch. Had been hearing rumors of it since his first day at the academy.

The arch of whispers, it was called. Its purpose unknown beyond the fact it predated the ministry itself and no one who had ever fallen behind it had ever been seen again.

As a wild laugh was torn from the memory Sirius's lips, his head flashed backwards in face of his adrenaline fueled hysteria and James felt his breath catch as the man unwittingly brought him close enough to almost brush the sheer veil draping across the arch.

No, no, no.

This could not be right.

But with a final spell and a movement that James would remember for the rest of his life, he watched as his best friend fell, lost to this world forever.

And then the scream began.

At first, James didn't even realize it was human. Instinctively he assumed it came from the viel itself, the sound such a pure and raw embodiment of anguish that he automatically dismissed the idea that anything else could have made it.

But that wasn't right.

Instead, James felt his heart clench as his gaze was caught by a struggle breaking out in before the dias, the only movement in the wake of such a cry.

Harry.

And James thought he had seen pain on the boy's face before.

It was nothing to what he was seeing now. Nothing could ever compare the raw anguish he was witnessing as Remus had to forcibly restrain the child from jumping after Sirius.

The child had to be stopped from leaping to his _death_.

James' curiosity shriveled and died within his chest, its empty corpse nothing more than a dead weight pressing on his chest.

Gone was his need to learn more, his desire to understand.

He did not want to understand this madness. He did not want to understand how such pain was possible, why these insane events were happening.

This wasn't right and no amount of knowledge would ever change that fact.

It wasn't right.

Only Lily's quacking form, pressed tightly against his side held him place, the same thought that once brought movement to his shocked mind now holding him still. _Lily shouldn't have to face this alone._

And so James swallowed the bile that was coating his throat and tried to face the memory only to find it fading again, the desperate call that had slowly become discernible as Sirius's name becoming garbled. The shapes were fading and blurred even as James watched, the mists of the pensive's shifting and twirling around the small group as a new memory began to take shape.

And yet James' paid no attention to change, his brain stuck on what had just happened; unable to process. Unable to move on.

It just wasn't right.

It couldn't be right.

Right?


End file.
